


Of Godparents and Goading

by ReminiscentRevelry



Series: Of Fullmetal and Feelings [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Mentions of minor characters, Parental Edward Elric, Parental Roy Mustang, Post-Promised Day, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, implied royai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReminiscentRevelry/pseuds/ReminiscentRevelry
Summary: Ed and Winry have their first child and Mustang and Hawkeye come to Resembool to meet their godchild.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Mei Chan | May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang
Series: Of Fullmetal and Feelings [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645903
Comments: 26
Kudos: 352





	Of Godparents and Goading

Major General Roy Mustang always knew who was in his office. The only people allowed in outside of his team were Major Miles, Major Armstrong, Lieutenant General Armstrong, and the Fuhrer. Any other visitor had to go through three different reception desks and Hawkeye before being allowed to see him, both for safety reasons and so he could focus on his work.

So naturally, when his office door was kicked open by a shouting blond, he panicked and snapped his fingers, sending a wave of fire to the intruder.

“Geez, Bastard, you trying to kill me?” Edward Elric dodged the flames easily, clearly aware that Mustang’s first instinct would be to incinerate any intruder.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang said. He pinched the bridge of his nose as Ed moved a chair in front of his desk. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” Ed said, sitting down without waiting for permission. “Hawkeye told me last time I was in town that if I came through Central without visiting she’d follow me to Resembool.”

“Don’t blame the Captain for this,” Mustang said. “Why are you actually here? You never visit unless you want something.”

“First of all, that’s completely untrue,” he said before digging through his jacket and producing a piece of paper. He slid it over to Mustang. “Anyway, here.”

He stared at the piece of paper, brow furrowed. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Ed nodded and he straightened. “That’s great news, congratulations!”

Ed frowned. “Is it great?” he asked. “I don’t know - I don’t know how to -”

“Fatherhood doesn’t come naturally,” Mustang said. “It’s something you figure out as you go.”

“That’s what I’m scared of,” Ed admitted. “Hohenheim was never much of a father to me and Al, what if I end up like him?”

“Considering how much you don’t want to be like him, I think you know already how to keep from imitating him,” Mustang replied. He tapped Ed’s head with a pen, pulling his gaze from the desk. “Even Hughes had trouble.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Ed said.

“It’s true,” Mustang said. “I came to help on a case when Gracia was pregnant and Hughes kept me up every night worrying about Gracia and Elicia. After she was born, he’d wake me up with his damn phone calls every time he was awake for whatever reason. In between all his gushing over Elicia he’d worry that he wasn’t doing enough, that what he’d done in Ishval would make it impossible for him to be a good parent.”

“But he made it look so easy,” Ed said. “Even when Al and I visited, he was annoyingly paternal.”

“Because he put in the effort to learn how to be a good parent.” Mustang propped his chin on a hand. “It won’t be as easy to learn as alchemy, but you’ll be fine, Ed.”

Ed crossed his arms, sitting back. “Maybe,” he murmured. “It just - it feels like Winry is already a Mom, but I don’t feel like a father.”

“You probably won’t until you hold your child for the first time,” Mustang said. “Hughes said that was when it all came together for him, when he held Elicia for the first time.”

“General.”

Mustang looked up, held to attention by Ed’s golden eyes. Since he’d left the military, he’d always called him ‘Mustang’ or ‘Bastard’, never his title, and only by his first name once. (Two days before he married Winry. He’d met him at the train station with the explanation that he’d been barred from the house while Paninya and Rebecca got everything in order and ended up drinking at the town inn with him, Al, Havoc, and Miles. Roy wasn’t sure Ed even remembered half the night.)

“Edward.”

“I did come with a question,” Ed said, shifting uncomfortably. 

Mustang narrowed his eyes at Ed’s fidgeting. “Spit it out, Fullmetal,” he said.

Ed sighed, taking a deep breath. “Will you be their godfather?”

Mustang blinked, holding Ed’s gaze evenly. Ed didn’t waver or look away, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Very funny, Fullmetal,” he said, sitting back with a frown. “When is your train out of here?”

“It’s not a joke,” Ed said, tapping the desk.

“Then you haven’t thought it through,” Mustang snapped, putting his head in his hands, elbows on his desk.

“Winry and I _both_ thought it through and agreed,” Ed replied with equal vigor. 

“Why?” Mustang asked. He looked up and Ed reeled back at the confusion and sadness in his eyes. “Why would you ask _me_ to be your child’s godfather?”

“Because you were there for me and Al when we had no one,” Ed said simply. “Because I’ve seen you with Elicia. Because even after I left the military you kept in touch and asked after Al and Winry.”

Mustang blinked, but Ed kept talking.

“Because I know you and Hawkeye aren’t going to have your own kids but love Elicia like she’s family because she’s Hughes’ daughter.” Ed paused. “Because I want this child to have a family beyond me and Winry and Al.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying about me and Hawkeye-”

“We already asked Hawkeye to be godmother,” Ed said. “And she agreed, but I had to convince her, too.”

“What about your teacher?”

“Teacher and Sig claimed grandparent status,” Ed said. “Within about thirty seconds of finding out.”

Mustang sighed and sank back in his seat. The office door hadn’t shut behind Ed, but the only person in the outer office was Hawkeye. She had a faint smile on her face and Mustang realized that Ed must have asked her when he first got to the office.

“All right,” he murmured. “I’d be honored.”

Ed grinned. “Thanks, Bastard,” he said. He blinked and looked at his watch. “Ah, shit, the train. And I gotta call Winry.”

“You cut this pretty close, Fullmetal,” Mustang said.

“Yeah, yeah, I usually do.” Ed grabbed his paper and trunk, waving at Mustang. “Thanks, General.”

Mustang waved as he left, meeting Hawkeye’s eyes when the door shut behind him. She took the seat he’d vacated, shutting the door behind her to prevent eavesdroppers.

“His train doesn’t leave for another hour,” Hawkeye said. 

“He’s never been one for emotions,” Mustang replied. 

“But he still cares.” Hawkeye smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.

“He does.” Mustang paused. “He’s still a perceptive brat, too.”

“He always has been, sir. You never said anything before because he was using it to tease Havoc instead of you.”

In truth, Mustang wasn’t one for emotions, either. It was one of the similarities he and Edward shared that had made him nervous when Ed was younger. The only emotion Ed had ever readily displayed was anger and it took years for him to learn how to control it. Mustang had learned the hard way that it was easy to let anger become all-consuming and had spent the years since the Promised Day trying to keep himself from falling that far again.

It was a few more months before the baby was born, but Ed knew they’d avoid coming to Resembool if they could, claiming paperwork and ceremonies and duties to stay in Central. So he sent them each a picture of the newborn with the birthday and left out the name, forcing them to come East. 

The last time they’d been to Resembool was for Ed and Winry’s wedding in 1917. The town hadn’t changed at all in the few years that followed, but Alphonse and May met them at the station when their train got in. Mustang saw their linked hands from their train car and pointed it out to Hawkeye, both smiling at thought. Neither had forgotten that May had saved Hawkeye during the Promised Day or that Al had gone to Xing to learn Alkahestry from her. It seemed that more than just teaching had happened when he was in Xing, if she’d come back to Amestris with him.

“Paninya and Mr. Garfiel just went back to Rush Valley a few days ago,” Al told them as they walked up the long dirt path to the Rockbell house. “Teacher and Sig are still here helping with the baby.”

“What did they name him?” Mustang asked.

“Brother said not to tell you,” Al said. He held up his hands when Mustang glared at him. “Hey, it’s the one thing Brother asked when I offered to get you from the station. He wants to tell you himself.”

May chuckled and shrugged at Hawkeye when she raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to ask Ed,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“We’re back!” Al called into the house. May slipped off to the kitchen where Sig and Izumi were cooking.

“Is that bastard with you?” Ed shouted from upstairs.

“And Captain Hawkeye!” Al led them upstairs, where Ed was leaning over the railing. Mustang was surprised to see him in a tank top and sweats, barefoot, with his hair in a ponytail. It was the most casual he’d even seen Ed, though it made sense, considering his son was barely two weeks old.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled. “In here.” 

Mustang paused by the doorway when he saw Winry in bed, sitting up with the baby in her arms. Hawkeye didn’t move past him, watching over his shoulder.

“Don’t be shy now, General,” Winry said. “Come meet your godson.”

He swallowed nervously, sitting down in a chair beside the bed. Winry let him take the baby, smiling when he started cooing at Mustang.

“He’s got Fullmetal’s eyes,” he said quietly, letting him grab at his fingers. “And his hair.”

“You still haven’t told us his name, Ed,” Hawkeye said, sitting in the other chair. She leaned forward, smiling at the baby with her coat folded over her arms.

“Edward,” Winry scolded. He shrugged, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Meet your godson,” Ed said softly, “Maes Van Elric.”

Mustang gasped and Hawkeye blinked, looking up at him. His eyes were fixed on the baby as he froze, the slight bounce of his arms halting.

“Maes,” he whispered and his breath stuttered when Maes gurgled and laughed, a tiny hand reaching out to pat his cheek. “Damn it, Fullmetal.”

Roy Mustang was never one for emotions. An emotional soldier was a dead soldier and he had too much to do to die, had seen too many people crumple under the weight of their emotions to let his own overwhelm him. He felt satisfied when he finished his work and saw his team doing well, felt happy when his friends told him of their accomplishments, felt sad on the anniversary of Hughes’ death, felt proud when he got word of the newest thing the Elric brothers had done. 

But here, sitting with a baby bearing his best friend’s name and the hair and eyes of the boy he’d put so much faith in, become so proud of, he wasn’t able to pinpoint what he was feeling. All he knew was it was warmer than the fire he’d defended his country with and stronger than anything he’d ever felt before.

“General?” Ed’s voice snapped him back to reality and he smiled, still fixed on Maes.

“You’ll have to take pictures of him,” he said as he passed Maes to Hawkeye to hold, “and send them to us in Central. And to Gracia.”

“Al bought a new camera,” Winry said with a smile. “Ed’s been using it every day.”

“I’m going to make Hughes look tame with the amount of pictures I’m gonna have,” Ed said, grinning at Winry. “I already sent some to Miles and Major Armstrong.”

“Not General Armstrong?” Winry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Teacher is sending the pictures to General Armstrong,” Ed said. To Hawkeye and Mustang, he continued, “I think she’d tear them up if I sent them. She and Teacher are friends now, they met during the Promised Day.”

Mustang shuddered. General Armstrong had a begrudging civility with him when they interacted, but Izumi Curtis had never liked him. She’d been kind enough during the Promised Day, guarding him when he couldn’t see in Father’s lair, but once he recovered his sight she’d wasted no time in making her dislike for him known, telling him such flat-out in the middle of Central’s military hospital. He couldn’t fault her for it - he’d been the one to bring Ed into the military, been his commanding officer, let him take Al on military missions. He had once been inclined to point out all the good that had come from Ed being a State Alchemist, but after seeing her flip Ed through a table in a spar, he kept his arguments to himself.

Hawkeye snorted lightly, smiling at Maes. “Hughes would be proud,” she said softly, “of both of you.”

Winry’s smile faltered for a second. “I wish he could have been here,” she said. “He was always so kind.”

“He loved kids,” Mustang said, watching Maes wave his hands at Hawkeye, “even before Elicia was born.”

“He called us whenever you stayed with him in Central,” Hawkeye said. She brushed a finger against Maes’ cheek, shifting him in her arms to let him look at Mustang. “He would talk for hours about everything that happened in Central. He thought of you like you were his own kids.”

“He always treated us well,” Ed said, “he’d even blow off work to see me and Al when we were in town.”

A few thumps and a loud thud sounded downstairs. Hawkeye handed Maes to Mustang, offering to see what happened and leaving him alone with Winry and Ed.

“I’ve never seen you so quiet,” Winry said.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been around a newborn,” he said, rocking Maes in his arms. “The last time was after Elicia was born.”

“You’re Elicia’s godfather, aren’t you?” Winry asked. Ed shifted from the end of the bed to Hawkeye’s empty chair, crossing his flesh leg over his metal knee and leaning toward his son.

Mustang nodded. “Hughes and I were friends at the academy,” Mustang replied. “I was helping with a case in Central when Elicia was born and he dragged me to the hospital at three in the morning after Gracia went into labor. She was even smaller than this one.”

“He must have been happy,” Ed said. 

“He was terrified.” Mustang let Ed take his son, smiling softly. “He was scared to hold her, like he was scared she would break if he touched her. Gracia practically had to shove her onto him.”

“Ed couldn’t wait to hold him,” Winry said, watching Ed. He was holding Maes close enough for his bangs to brush his forehead and he smiled when he tried to nibble on his hair, gently moving his hands away from his hair to keep him from tugging on it.

“He’s always been impatient,” Mustang said. 

Ed frowned at him, his ponytail dropping to where Maes could grab it. He winced when Maes yanked on it and Mustang let out a small snort, gently working the baby’s chubby fingers open.

“Don’t yank your dad’s hair, kid,” he said, letting Maes grab onto his finger. “He’ll start yelling like someone called him short.”

“We’re the same height,” Ed grumbled.

“For a long time we weren’t,” Mustang said.

“He didn’t grow until he and Al were separated for the few months before the Promised Day,” Winry said. “I wonder if the distance meant that fewer of the nutrients were going to Al’s body, since his soul wasn’t as close to yours.”

Ed shuddered slightly, visible only to Mustang, though he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “It was odd not having to get a crick in my neck to look him in the eye when he showed up again.”

Ed growled, “I wasn’t _that_ short.” He let Winry take Maes when he started fussing. “I think he’s hungry. We’ll be downstairs.”

Mustang waited outside the doorway, a soft smile on his face when Ed kissed Winry’s forehead before he left.

“You two don’t seem as tired as most new parents,” Mustang said.

“We’ve had a lot of help,” Ed said, thumping down the stairs. “May brought this thing from Xing that lets Winry make extra milk bottles so she doesn’t have to get up every time he’s hungry at night. Sometimes she and Al will feed him at night, and Teacher and Sig have been cooking a lot.”

“I’m sorry Hawkeye and I can’t do too much,” he said. “We’re supposed to head to Ishval in a few days, Grumman approved us stopping here because he wants photos.”

“I still think Old Man Grumman is crazy,” Ed said, opening the door to a study. “But you and Hawkeye don’t have to worry about doing anything, we wanted you here to meet your godson. Relax for a few days.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprising, coming from you,” he said. Stepping into the study, his gaze was drawn to the bookshelves lining the walls - mostly alchemy texts, some from Aerugo and Creta that Ed must have brought back from his travels, some on Alkahestry from Xing that must have come from Al. Papers covered a desk, transmutation circles half-drawn with notes scribbled in the margins. “Even retired, you’re still working.”

“Ah, but I’m young and full of life,” Ed said, “while you, old man, need to take a break.”

Mustang picked up a book and whacked Ed in the back of the head with it. “Thirty-five isn’t old, brat,” he retorted. 

“I told Elicia I was twenty and she said I was old,” Ed said seriously, “so that makes you old.”

“Who’s old?” Mustang turned at Izumi’s voice, smirking at Ed’s fearful look. 

“Me, apparently,” Mustang said. Izumi glared at Ed, well aware that she was older than Mustang.

“I take it back,” Ed said, “you’re both young and full of life.”

“That’s what I thought,” Izumi said. She crossed her arms and nodded at the desk. “Asking for another opinion, Ed?”

“An opinion?” Mustang asked.

Ed gathered up a few papers, shuffling them into a neat stack and offering it to Mustang. “Yeah, Al and I were working on something but we’re not sure it’ll work. Teacher gave us her input, but you’re a decent enough alchemist, I guess.”

He took the papers without bothering to roll his eyes, reading the notes and looking at the circles. Taking them back to the desk, he picked up a pen and wrote a few notes with Izumi and Ed looking over his shoulder.

“This would entirely rewrite Amestrian alchemy,” he said. “It’d take time to implement and a longer time to teach.”

“It would make transmutations stronger,” Al said, leaning over Ed’s shoulder. “Blending Alkahestry with alchemy would use energy that’s stronger than tectonic energy.”

“But teaching people to read this Dragon’s Pulse will take a long time,” Mustang said.

“Al and I learned it quickly enough,” Ed said.

“Not everyone is a genius or a prodigy,” Izumi pointed out, ruffling Ed’s hair fondly. 

“But using a part of Xingese culture could help strengthen our relationship with them,” Mustang said as he straightened. “More so than just developing a railway across the desert to trade with them. If we could offer positions for Alkahestrists to teach their art to alchemists…”

“Going straight for the political stance,” Al mumbled. 

“It’s a fair point,” Ed said. “Material-wise we have enough to trade - meats for spices, wool for silk, and the like - but opening a doorway to share culture like that could make people more willing to use the railway, and with the first stop being in Ishval, that could help give them visitors to rebuild their economy.”

May came through the doorway, arms crossed as she went to the four of them gathered around the desk. “Are you still talking about blending alchemy and alkahestry?”

Al nodded, shifting to let her duck under his arm and lean against his side. “You said it was typical for every Clan to have a few master alkahestrists, right?”

She nodded. “I’m not sure how many would be willing to come to Amestris,” she said. “They don’t tend to have many apprentices at a time and are more like medical professionals than being affiliated with the emperor and his advisors.”

“That may be better, actually,” Ed said, tapping his fingers on his chin before he grabbed a notebook for an empty sheet of paper. “Giving opportunities to general citizens instead of just high-ranking officials could encourage more people to try out alkahestry. The more commonplace it is, the easier it’ll be to make resources accessible.”

“That could encourage more people to try out this new form of alchemy,” Mustang mused. “The more widespread -”

“The less military affiliated,” Ed cut in. “It’ll change the view of alchemy from a weapon to a tool, given enough time.”

“It could make people think of it as more medically focused, though,” Mustang said, rubbing his chin. 

“Easier to make it a university course that way,” Ed said. He sketched out a transmutation circle and Mustang made a noise, finding a pen to make his own notes.

Al raised an eyebrow but Ed didn’t notice, fixated on the papers on his desk. Al looked from Ed to May to Izumi, who smirked and nodded at Mustang. He was leaning over the desk beside Ed, making quiet suggestions of his own. Al could see the pride in his eyes as he listened to Ed and smiled at the two, not that they could see it. They didn’t notice when the three of them slipped out of the study, leaving them to talk between each other.

Hawkeye smiled at Al when he came into the kitchen, a cup of tea held close to her chest. “Are they getting along?” she asked.

“Talking about blending alchemy and alkahestry,” he replied, pouring himself a glass of milk. 

“I didn’t think the pair of them were able to get along,” Izumi said, leaning against the counter. “Ed was actually listening instead of sniping at him for making notes on his papers.”

“For all they argue,” Hawkeye said, “alchemy is the one thing where they talk like adults and have a mutual respect for each other’s skills.”

“Still, I’m surprised at how much he affected Ed’s perspective,” Izumi said. 

“You noticed it, too?” Al asked.

“It’s hard to miss,” Izumi replied.

May looked between them before looking at Hawkeye, who had a raised brow and a wry smirk. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“The way Ed was talking about the possibility of bringing alkahestry over here as a way of bettering relations with Xing was very political,” Al said. 

“They were good points, though,” Izumi said. “Especially if it could help Ishval rebuild.”

Hawkeye tapped her fingers against her mug. “Not many of the Ishvalans we’ve found remember their methods for farming and glassmaking,” she said. “A way to rebuild their economy while they rebuild their farms and refine their glass production would be good.”

“Glass production?” May asked.

“Ishval’s main exports were wheat, cotton, and glass,” Izumi said. “Living in the desert meant they were able to perfect glass-making.”

“There are a few glassmakers set up in Ishval already,” Al said. “Major Miles sent some of their figurines and a mobile when he heard about Maes.”

“Have you heard from Scar?” Hawkeye asked.

“I showed him a picture when he came through last week,” May said. “He said he was a cute baby.”

“He said he must take after his mother,” Al said. 

Hawkeye shook her head as Izumi laughed. Near the study, a crash sounded, followed by a shout of, “Bastard! The hell are you doing?!”

Thudding steps sounded as Mustang ran past the door, Ed chasing him, waving a book like a weapon.

“I thought they were getting along?” Hawkeye said.

“Sometimes I’m not sure there’s an adult between the two of them,” Al grumbled, watching the doorway. Ed ran past again, now holding Mustang’s little black notebook. Mustang followed him and they all heard the sound of the study door slamming and something crashing in it.

“Should we check on them?” May asked.

Another crash sounded from the study and Al sighed, setting his mug down to check on them. Hawkeye followed him, sighing when she opened the door.

Ed was holding the leg of his chair out like a sword at Mustang, who had the seat of the chair in front of him to shield himself. The desk was broken and papers were scattered around the room, some of the books spilling off a broken shelf.

“You were alone for seven minutes,” Al said, staring at the mess.

“He started it,” Ed said, pointing at Mustang.

“That’s a lie,” Mustang snapped, lowering the chair seat. “You threw a book because I pointed out a flaw in your theory.”

“You threw a pen first,” Ed snapped.

“General,” Hawkeye said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re thirty five.”

“You’re a _father,”_ Al said to Ed.

Ed blinked at his brother and looked at the wooden chair leg in his hand, dropping it to hold his head in his hands and drop into a crouch on the floor.

“I’m a father,” he mumbled. “I’m a _father.”_

“You’ve been a father for two weeks now, Fullmetal,” Mustang said, letting Hawkeye take the chair seat.

“I’m a _father,”_ Ed repeated.

“General, you broke him,” Al said, cleaning up the papers.

“You were the one to remind him he’s a father, Al,” Mustang said.

Hawkeye crouched beside Ed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Edward?” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a father,” he whispered, eyes wide. He pulled at his hair, staring at the floor.

“Okay, Fullmetal,” Mustang said. He clapped his hands to rebuild Ed’s chair and pulled him up by an arm, pushing him into the chair. “Back to earth. Your son was born two weeks ago, remember?”

Ed leaned forward, his head still in his hands as he stared at the ground. “I’m a father,” he mumbled. “I have a son. I have a _son.”_

Mustang looked at Al and Hawkeye. Hawkeye looked worried but Al flicked his brother’s forehead. “He’s upstairs, Brother, do you need to see him?” He pulled Ed’s hands from his hair.

“Upstairs,” Ed murmured. “My son is upstairs.”

Slowly, he stood up and left the study, walking upstairs. Mustang frowned, turning to Al when he deflated with a sigh.

“Is that normal?” he asked.

“He’s still adjusting,” Al said. “Winry can talk him down most of the time but he’s had more nightmares since Maes was born.”

“Has he been seeing the therapist?” Hawkeye asked.

“No,” Al said, and there was annoyed tinge to his tone. “He said they feel condescending. The one he saw told him he should study something other than alchemy and focus on recovery instead of traveling.”

Mustang shook his head. “Even I know he wouldn’t do that,” he said. He went to the shelf and pulled off the remaining books, letting Al clap his hands to fix it. “Do you know what his nightmares are about?”

Al shook his head. “He won’t tell me,” he said, reorganizing the books to the order Ed had them in. “Same as always. Winry might know. He talks to her about emotional things.”

Mustang glanced at Al. His shoulders were tight and his jaw set as he shelved the books. He was tense, Mustang realized, and nervous about his brother. Tilting his head at Hawkeye, he set a hand on Al’s shoulder, a slight pressure that made Al turn to him. Despite the tension in his body, his eyes were tired. He didn’t notice Hawkeye slipping into the hall, focused on Mustang.

“You know your brother better than anyone,” he said, “but even I know that Ed doesn’t talk about his emotions. He keeps it to himself because he doesn’t want anyone to worry about him.”

“Not talking about it won’t make me not worry about him,” Al grumbled. “And he always makes _me_ talk.”

“So tell him,” Mustang said. “The last thing he wants is for you to worry about him, Al. You tell him you’re worried and ask him to share what’s wrong. Ask him to let you take some of the weight.”

“And when he tells me not to worry?” Al asked, voice hard and sharp.

“Tell him to stop being stubborn.” Mustang looked from Al to the papers on the desk, covered with his and Ed’s handwriting. “No one can shoulder the world alone and he has people to help him. He may not tell you his nightmares, but so long as he knows you’re there for him, that’s the best you can do.”

Al nodded, his shoulders drooping as he relaxed. Mustang went to the kitchen, accepting the mug of tea Hawkeye handed him. She tilted her head slightly and he leaned forward to let her whisper to him, smiling slightly at her words.

Izumi, sat at the table with Sig, shook her head. She knew of the military’s fraternization laws and Ed had told her about the rumors that had floated around Mustang and Hawkeye in the military, but watching them interact she wondered how they’d stayed as commanding officer and subordinate for so long.

She’d noticed them during the Promised Day, how Hawkeye had been able to direct Mustang flawlessly. She clearly had an understanding of his alchemy that came from more than just working under him and he trusted her to direct him without fear of missing. She guessed the range she’d been telling him during the fight was their distance from Father, something a sniper could estimate better than anyone. They were a strong pair and she wanted to know how they’d found each other.

Ed had shrugged and admitted to not knowing when she asked him. Al told her they were together when they came to Resembool the first time and they’d never questioned their history.

“So Mustang,” she said, crossing her legs as she turned from Sig to Mustang, “how did you two meet?” She gestured to Hawkeye with her mug.

Mustang sat across from her, looking at Hawkeye. “Her father was my alchemy teacher,” he said. 

Izumi blinked. “You didn’t meet in the military?”

“No,” Mustang said. “We didn’t really stay in contact when I went to the academy.”

Izumi looked at Hawkeye with a raised brow.

“My father didn’t approve of the military,” she said carefully. “I enrolled at the academy after he passed, but we didn’t meet again until Ishval.”

Izumi peered at her. “I didn’t think you were old enough to fight in Ishval,” she said.

“I wasn’t involved until the last year of the war,” Hawkeye replied. “They were ordering cadets to the battlefield to back the State Alchemists.”

“They were?” Mustang asked, looking surprised. 

“With the casualties from the resistance, they didn’t want to send fully trained soldiers away from their posts and leave areas vulnerable.” Hawkeye sipped her tea, looking at Mustang. “You were deployed before the order, though.”

“Unfortunately,” Mustang said. He set his mug down, rubbing his face. “As soon as I was certified they sent me to the front lines with Grand and Armstrong.”

“How old were you?” Sig asked.

Mustang tilted his head. “Twenty one,” he said after a moment.

“Eighteen,” Hawkeye supplied.

Izumi shared a look with Sig. They were only a few years older than Mustang but seeing the weight of war behind their eyes, weighing on their shoulders, they seemed much older than they were. It was a far cry from the person Ed had been chasing through his house a few minutes prior.

“I suppose it was good luck that you two found each other,” Sig said. “How did you get assigned to the same unit?”

“I was assigned to the East after the war ended,” Mustang said. “She met with me when she came to Eastern Command.”

“I may have put in a request,” Hawkeye said. Mustang raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. “It was East or Central.”

“I’m more surprised they took your request into account,” Izumi said. 

“Getting a moniker of a _hero_ may have helped,” Hawkeye said, slightly bitter. “But my grandfather felt bad that he was never around so he honored the request.”

“Your grandfather?” Izumi asked.

“Grumman,” Mustang said. “I still say he’s lucky Rebecca never shot him.”

“There’s still time,” Hawkeye said dryly.

“Old Man Grumman is your grandfather?” Al dropped into one of the chairs, looking at Hawkeye.

“Never let him hear you say that,” Mustang said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Al blinked. “He never minded when Brother said it at Eastern Command,” he said innocently.

Mustang dropped his head onto the table, pulling at his hair. “How you two never made me die of stress I’ll never know,” he muttered. When Izumi laughed, he groaned wordlessly, sinking deeper into the table when Al started laughing, too.

* * *

Mustang woke up at midnight when he heard crying. He knew it was Maes and guessed that someone would be up to check on him, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep right away. Where Central was always bustling, noisy even at night, Resembool was quiet in the dark. He got up, finding Ed sitting with Maes on the couch, feeding him from a bottle.

“Bastard,” Ed said by way of greeting. “I’ve got him, if he woke you up.”

Mustang shrugged, sitting beside Ed. “Central is never this quiet,” he said. “I like the peace.”

Ed glanced at him and shrugged, turning back to his son. Maes was content to drink his milk, giggling when Ed pulled away the bottle and bounced him, burping after a few bounces.

“How have you been?” Mustang asked, chin propped on his hand. 

“You’re implying something,” Ed said, and Mustang was once again reminded that Ed was smarter than most people.

“You started acting odd when Winry was talking about Al being in his armor,” he said. “And you panicked in the study about being a father. Something is wrong, I’m guessing.”

“The nightmares haven’t stopped,” Ed said. “I still see the Truth, but he’s not just taking Al anymore - he’s taking Winry and Maes and locking them in the Gate where I can’t get to them.”

Mustang watched him slow in rocking Maes. “I know you don’t have your Gate anymore,” he said, “and can’t use alchemy. So logically, Truth _can’t_ take them.”

“I know that,” Ed said, “but the nightmares don’t stop. It’s not just the Truth. It’s me and Ling in Gluttony’s stomach, the mine collapsing in Baschool, it’s Nina and Tucker and the thing we transmuted. I had to sleep on the couch when Winry was pregnant because I’d wake up screaming and I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Have you talked to anyone?” Mustang asked. “Your retirement covers meetings with a military therapist.”

“They told me to stop studying alchemy,” Ed said. “They said I was jumping into a thing with Winry too fast. They - they don’t get it.”

“You did get married young,” Mustang said. It was something he’d wondered about - Ed had grown up with Winry but it wasn’t until after the Promised Day that they started dating, and it was two years before they got married, but with the amount of time Ed spent traveling and Winry spent working in Rush Valley, he wasn’t sure how much time they’d spent together as partners before they got married.

“It made sense for us,” Ed said. “I had enough that I could research here and she has enough customers between here and Rush Valley that we could just be us, here. It was never safe before to be together when I was in the military, especially when she was a hostage. We didn’t want to waste any more time.” He shifted slightly, readjusting Maes when he started sniffling. He didn’t want anymore milk and snuffled until Ed rested him in the crook of his neck, rubbing his back.

“Why not take a break from your research to focus on Maes?” Mustang asked. “Not forever, just until he’s a bit older.”

“I can’t just go without a purpose,” Ed said. “I need to be doing something.”

“Parenting _is_ a purpose,” Mustang said. “Maes will need you to watch him, to feed him and change him and play with him. He’ll need to sleep but that’ll give you time to clean the house and make food and take care of yourself. Soon enough you may not have the time to focus on alchemy if Winry is going back to work.”

Ed was quiet as he rocked Maes, who was now sleeping against him. 

“Do the nightmares ever stop?” he whispered.

“No,” Mustang replied honestly, “but they do get further and farther between as time goes on.” He paused, looking at Maes’ sleeping form, listening to his soft, even breaths. “Do you remember when you were fourteen, when I had a flashback in the cafeteria?”

Ed furrowed his brow, trying to think. “I was reading about PTSD?” he asked.

Mustang nodded. “Do you remember what I told you about grief, once Hawkeye came into the office? The box with the button and a ball?”

Ed blinked as it came to him. “The button gets smaller over time,” he recalled, “but some days the ball still hits it.”

“And those days are harder,” Mustang said, nodding again. “If I’m guessing correctly, you’ve never given yourself time to process everything that’s happened to you. You always pushed it aside to focus on Al and your research, but now that you don’t have that, it’s all coming to a head.”

“I hate being psycho-analyzed,” Ed grumbled, holding Maes a bit tighter. 

“You hate being worried about,” Mustang corrected. “But people are going to worry about you when they care, Ed. Talking to them will help both of you.”

“Al doesn’t need to know about my nightmares,” Ed grumbled.

“Al will worry more if you don’t talk to him,” Mustang shot back. “You don’t have to handle everything alone, Ed.”

He reached out and put a hand on Ed’s head, ruffling his hair gently. Ed let him, leaning into the couch, sighing as he pulled his legs up onto the couch.

“I’m tired,” he murmured, blinking sleepily as he shifted to lay comfortably with Maes nestled on his chest. “I’m just tired.”

“Then sleep,” Mustang mumbled. He leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Things usually make more sense in the daylight.”

Ed grunted, rolling his eyes as he drifted off. Sunk into the couch with his son on his chest, he wasn’t inclined to move, despite his proximity to Mustang. Mustang had already dozed off, even breaths signalling that he’d fallen asleep. Ed had come across him napping in his office enough times to know that Mustang could fall asleep on a whim and wake up without trouble. He wondered if it was because of his own nightmares that he learned how to sleep where he could. He wondered if Hawkeye could do the same.

When he woke up in the morning to the flash of Al’s camera and a crick in his neck, his questions were forgotten to the dark as he pushed Maes onto Mustang to chase after his brother.

Mustang, awake but not willing to move, shook his head at his godson as Ed chased Al through the house. It was something he’d seen at Eastern Command, the brothers bickering and fighting over something when they were young. Sometimes they’d break the training grounds with their fight or he’d grab Ed to give them a mission to stop them from distracting the soldiers, but here in their own house, nothing they broke was his problem. 

As more crashing sounded and the rest of the house woke up, he drifted off to sleep again, Maes against his chest. In a few days, he’d have to go back to work. For now, he could relax and he would revel in it while he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews are always welcome!


End file.
